


Autumn

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-30
Updated: 2006-09-30
Packaged: 2018-10-26 05:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10781022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Autumn has always been Blaise’s least favorite season.





	Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: For [](http://community.livejournal.com/quiet_ones/profile)[**quiet_ones**](http://community.livejournal.com/quiet_ones/) weekly challenge: Autumn  


* * *

Autumn has always been Blaise’s least favorite season. When he was a child, autumn meant returning to school, which was a virtual prison in his eyes. Where spring means a new stepfather, autumn usually means a new funeral to attend as yet another falls prey to his mother. Everything dies in autumn, from the trees to the flowers in the garden that was often his summer escape. It’s a time when things always seem to fall apart or go beyond his control. In retrospect, he really shouldn’t be surprised that that the beginning of his own end, in a way, involves Hermione Granger and happens to fall on an autumn day.

The first time he really _sees_ her is a morning in late October during his third year at Hogwarts. The first time he dreams about fucking her is mid-September during his fourth year. The first time he actually speaks to her is an afternoon in early November during his fifth year. The first time he tries to kiss her after having far too much firewhisky during a Hogsmeade weekend is in early October during his sixth year. The first time she hexes him is five seconds after that attempted kiss.

It is six years later that he finds himself at a boring party in an ostentatious parlor full of reproductions that make him cringe. It is a warm evening in early October, far too humid for autumn, and his clothing is becoming creased as he stands restlessly in the shadows to avoid having to speak to anyone. It is a necessary part of business to be seen at such gatherings, and he is a master at playing the scene, but he has little use for mundane small talk and conversation that has no point beyond politeness.

He sees her lingering near the doors to the balcony. There’s a bored expression on her face and a smile that is definitely fake. He has seen her during the years since Hogwarts, of course, but he’s never had the opportunity to study her freely since potions class in sixth year.

The scar that curves along her jaw looks more vivid this evening than the other times he‘s seen her since the war ended, and he frowns as he realizes that it doesn’t distract from the natural beauty that first caught his attention all those years ago. He is a connoisseur of beautiful things, from paintings to furniture to women, but most pale in comparison to the passion and vitality of her. He has wanted to possess her since he was fourteen years old, a fact that infuriates him and makes him hate her all the more for having such power over him, even if she has no idea that she possesses such a gift.

He decides then and there to finally have her so this can end. Once he does, she’ll be out of his system, and he’ll smugly know he’s had her begging him to touch her. The idea of having Granger beg him is enough to draw him out of the shadows. He joins her on the balcony where she has retreated and notices leaves falling from a nearby tree. When she looks up at him and arches a brow, stubbornly setting her chin in a familiar way as her lips purse into a slight scowl at the sight of him, he feels a sense of excitement that he’s not felt in far too long.

Instead of wasting time exchanging trite banter, even if it does make delicious foreplay to do so with someone intelligent and almost an equal in wits, he smiles his most devastating ‘I’m going to shag you until you forget your own name’ smile and takes her wine glass from her hand. He sets it on the railing beside his own and lazily moves his gaze over her, taking in every curve hinted at beneath the loose material that doesn’t cling nearly enough for his liking.

When their gazes meet, he smirks when he sees the flush on her cheeks and notes her obvious reaction. They’re far too old now for her to deny her attraction and hide behind dusty old books, he thinks smugly. Before he has a chance to gloat, as it’s too good an opportunity to let pass by, she’s suddenly leaning up and kissing him. He freezes at the first contact of her lips against his. Her lips are chapped and taste like peppermint lip gloss, and they’re far too thin to feel so full as she presses them more firmly against his own.

He blinks down at her and sees that her eyes are open, not fluttering shut in some girly manner like any other woman he’s ever kissed. Instead, she’s looking at him as if he’s some sort of experiment she’s studying, which makes him determined to make her unable to think at all. He moves his hand behind her back and pulls her against him, letting her know that he is not controllable nor some bloody research subject. He squeezes her arse just hard enough to make her gasp in outrage, which allows him the chance to deepen the kiss.

She kisses him back, curling her tongue around his as their noses bump and teeth clash. He feels her hand on his own arse, which makes him buck forward and rub against her. She laughs into their kiss, which makes him kiss her harder as he tangles his fingers in her hair and tugs her head back. He moves his leg between hers and pulls her closer, groaning when she pushes against his thigh.

As they kiss, he hears the chatter from the party just inside as well as the rustling of fallen leaves as a warm breeze blows over them. He knows he needs to escape, knows that autumn is too dangerous for this confrontation, knows that the kiss can’t possibly be as good as it seems or that she can’t possibly feel as right in his arms as she does. Despite all this knowledge, he finds himself unable to leave.

He pulls back and stares at her, taking in the now swollen and wet lips as well as the heavy breathing that makes her breasts look even more full. He moves his thumb over the scar on her jaw, watching her watch him. His skin looks even more dark against her pale, and he decides to buy a large mirror so he can fuck her in front of it while they watch.

With that thought in mind, he Apparates them to his flat, kissing her once they arrive before she can protest. They lose pieces of clothing on the way to his bedroom and don’t even make it to the bed before he pushes her against the wall. She scratches his back and moans wantonly when his fingers get her ready. When he finally slides inside her, he shudders and buries his face against her neck. He doesn’t surrender nor does she, but that just makes it even better, though he will deny thinking that.

After, when she’s lying beside him with her body covered in sweat, come, and marks from his fingers and teeth, he can’t sleep. His desire isn’t sated. He still wants her, even more now, and he scowls down at her as she sleeps cuddled next to him. She sighs in her sleep and his scowl fades as he pulls her closer. He decides then that he’ll just have to keep her until he’s satisfied.  



End file.
